Goodnight Moon
by Ada C. Eliana
Summary: Pilot AU.  Jess POV.  Sam is the only one who keeps the shadows at bay, his mere presence a protection from what she knows is out there, watching her, lying in wait.


**A/N: **I come with a spooky/creepy fic for you all to enjoy.

Title and inspiration provided by the song "Goodnight Moon" by Shivaree. I suggest listening to the song while reading (there's a youtube link to it in my profile). Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing besides the original creative content of this story.

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**Goodnight Moon**

By: Ada C. Eliana

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He kisses her on the cheek and turns to leave, but Jess stops him, makes him face her and presses their lips together. She melts slightly as her lips part and she enjoys a long kiss with Sam. He smiles at her, and then turns to the door, heading for his brother's car and the night that waits for him.

Sam closes the door behind him and Jess bolts the lock immediately. She doesn't want him to leave, doesn't want his strength and influence to disappear. Sam is the only one who keeps the shadows at bay, his mere presence a protection from what she knows is out there, watching her, lying in wait.

Without him there the room seems darker, the shadows larger. The wind howls past the window and leaves hit the glass over and over, a constant plinking that has her heart racing. She closes the curtains, clasping them shut and moving away from the window, out of the line of fire, out of the range of peering eyes.

She lays on the bed tentatively, tries to sleep, but she hears everything. There is a scratching against the wall and Jess' eyes stare open at the creeping shadows. Footsteps echo down the hall and Jess wants to pull the blankets up over her head, wants to disappear. The footsteps approach and Jess cannot take it anymore. She slides off of the bed, bare feet silent on the carpet as she stalks to the dresser. She opens the top drawer and removes the false bottom. A handgun and a hunting knife lie cradled in a sheet of velvet, hidden away from prying eyes, hidden away from Sam.

The handgun is comforting and heavy in her hands and Jess feels a little braver. She puts the knife on the nightstand and then burrows beneath the sheet, her hand clasped tightly around the gun, finger lingering near the safety.

Jessica closes her eyes and prays for morning.

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The man stares out at her from behind the hedges again, watches her as she walks home. But she knows that in the bright sunlight he can't touch her, that he's no threat as long as the sun blazes. He's been watching her almost non-stop for over a week now, his pale eyes haunting her steps, memorizing her every feature.

She tried to tell Sam about him so many times, but she could never find the words, she could never tell him how she knew that nothing and no one could help her, that nothing could stop him. Sam would want to call the police, but all they would find was mist because they would search for him by day.

She wants to leave, wants to go to a friend's house to stay, but he knows all of her haunts.

He knows everything about her.

No matter how afraid she is, she cannot run from him.

She refuses to run from anyone again anyway.

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She sits inside the apartment, curtains drawn and door bolted and calls Sam. As it rings she considers telling him about the man, telling him he needs to come back right away. She thinks about the follower with the pale eyes, he watches Sam just as much as he watches her. She saw him, caught him spying on Sam, staring at him possessively, and it made her shudder. But he never came as close to Sam as he does to her. She wonders if the man fears Sam, or if he's someone Sam knows, someone Sam would recognize and he wants to remain hidden for now.

She wonders if he would hurt Sam.

She knows he wants to hurt her.

Not that she can ever explain _how_, but she knows it. She wants Sam home, now, before the sun sets. Before the darkness falls and he can do something, before the shadows come inside the room and the eyes stare at her. His voicemail picks up and she almost cuts the connection just then, but instead she leaves a message, disguising her fear with concern for Sam.

She is concerned. She doesn't trust Dean, she doesn't want Sam near his father. And she resents them for taking Sam away from her now, when it's not safe. She wonders if they know, if they want the man to come for her, if they want to get her out of the way so they can have Sam back.

She clutches the cell phone tightly in her hand, willing it to ring, willing Sam to be on his way. But she knows he will not come back in time, she somehow knows that Sam will come back too late, just a moment too late.

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She barely sleeps that night; shaking fingers clutching the gun and bloodshot eyes staring at the door. A nightlight beside the bed casts light against the darkness, creating grotesque shadows on the wall. She turns the TV-on, hoping the extra noise will make her heart stop banging and her breathing go back to normal. But all it does is startle her more, the flashing colors and changes in sounds making her eyes flicker oddly and her ears betray her. She thinks someone is whispering her name and so she turns it off, the remote clattering to the floor, slipping from her sweaty fingers.

The bed feels like it is moving, rocking and she thinks there is something under it. She is too scared to get up, to give it a chance to grab her ankle from behind and pull her down; pull her under and away from the light.

Jessica sits rigidly on the bed all night, knees folded up to her chest, starting at every sound and certain that he's standing just behind the door. She thinks she hears him pacing impatiently, and the nightlight flickers in time with each footstep.

She kisses the amulet around her neck, a Holy Family pendant blessed at the Vatican by the Pope. She hopes it will protect her, that the invisible hand of God will stand between her and the man outside the door. The Holy water is in the nightstand and she wants to bless herself with it again but is afraid that the noise will catch his attention, will draw him in. So she recites 'Hail Mary' over and over under her breathe and tries to ignore the way the last line fills her with foreboding as she waits for moonlight to give way to sunlight.

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It's Sunday and she can almost breathe again. Sam has an important appointment tomorrow, he can't miss it, he will have to come back. And Sam…Sam likes a good night's sleep before interviews, so he'll be back before dark. Sam will be there to chase away the shadows; he'll protect her from the man, save her just by breathing the same air as her.

She decides to bake cookies for Sam as a surprise when he comes back. He loves it when she bakes things, though she never understands why he chuckles every time she bakes apple pie. She finds the recipe, chocolate chip, his favorite; but she's out of milk, and so she walks to the corner store to pick some up.

She's anxious still, and when someone walking by accidentally brushes against her she starts, and stumbles off of the sidewalk. She's calming her breathing, reminding herself that she's safe, when she sees his eyes watching her. He seems more distinct now; she can almost see the outline of his body, dark and tall behind the trees.

He's waiting when she walks out, canvas shopping bag in hand. She crosses herself and thinks that he smirks at that, as if to tell her that it will not protect her.

As she walks home she hears footsteps behind her. She turns and no one's there. The steps remain just behind her, and as she quickens her pace so do they. By the time she reaches the front door she's nearly running; her breath hitching and her heart beating hard and fast in her chest. She unlocks the door, hands fumbling with the keys; and then rushes to her apartment.

Her neighbor is in the hall, he waves congenially to Jess, and Jess struggles to smile in response. She had always found him slightly off in the past, and his mere presence is enough to make her uncomfortable on a normal day. Today with Sam gone and the watcher following her home, greeting him is nearly intolerable. She is pretty sure that her mouth merely twitched.

The blond watches Jess and as Jessica is opening her door she sees the neighbor's eyes darken. She stares in horror as his eyes – the whites and the irises – turn completely black. His smile widens sadistically and he points at his eyes as if to tell Jessica that he's watching her. She forces herself into her apartment, slamming and locking the door behind her.

Dropping the milk, she collapses against the door, shaking at what she saw. She clutches the medallion tightly and cries for Sam to come home soon.

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Baking gives her something to focus on, something other than shadowy shapes and black, soulless eyes. Outside the window lightning crackles, creating momentary flashes and sparks against the otherwise clear sky. The news blares from the living room TV, a boring story about cattle deaths that Jessica barely even pays attention to.

Instead she thinks of Sam. The warmth of his skin against hers; the trembling in his voice the first time he told her he loved her. She remembers tracing his scars with her fingers; reassuring him that she likes them, that she doesn't need him to tell her how they happened, that she's okay with his secrets. His arms are strong and solid, and as romance-novel as it sounds, even to her; when they're around her she feels so safe. She just wants him home, she wants him to hold her and make all of the bad things disappear.

When the cookies have finished baking she tests one, and deems them perfect. She piles them on a plate near the door, so Sam will see them when he comes home (which could be any minute now, she thinks) and then writes "I missed you, I love you" on a note card, balancing it on top of the baked goods. She smiles as she pictures him walking in and seeing that. She wonders if those six little words could really convey how important Sam is to her, how terrible these days and especially the nights without him have been.

She keeps herself busy with homework for most of the afternoon, trying not to stare at the clock, trying not to let her fears get the best of her. She waits for Sam nervously, hoping that at any moment the door will swing open and he'll enter, smiling and happy to see her.

As the sun begins to sink she calls her friends, Becky first, then Peter and Zack. She tells them that Sam hasn't come back yet, that she's worried because he left with his brother, who he rarely speaks of; to find their father who he speaks only negatively of.

She wants them on alert, she wants them worrying about Sam. Because if Sam does not come home soon, then the man might come for her and what would happen to Sam without her there to make sure he was alright? She cannot even imagine Sam alone, it would destroy him to lose her; so she asks her friends to check up on Sam tomorrow, to make sure that he's back; to make that sure everything is alright.

She thinks there must be something telling in her voice because Becky asks if that's all; if there isn't something else going on. She cannot bring herself to tell her friend the truth. Becky would want her to leave, but the man will not be deterred and if she must die tonight she is not taking Becky or anyone else down with her.

Jessica sits on the bed, knees pulled up to her chest, eyes drawn to the sinking sun outside of her window. She watches as the sky turns red before slowly morphing into darkness; and still Sam does not return. The last of the sun's rays disappear, and now the only source of natural light remaining is the steady glow of the moon, casting shadows in the apartment.

Jess sits there for a long while, staring into the night and trying not to panic. She thinks of Sam, out there somewhere in the dark. Maybe he's on his way home; maybe he's never coming home again.

She tries calling him again, but she is not surprised at all when he doesn't answer. She would give anything to hear his voice again. She leaves a quick voicemail and then forces herself up off of the bed, forces herself to think positively. To believe that Sam is just around the corner, just about to walk up the front steps, just beyond the door.

She walks into the bathroom, Sam's favorite white silk shift in one hand, her favorite gun in the other, and pretends that she does not hear eager footsteps outside of her door.

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She is just finishing her shower, washing the last of the conditioner from her hair when she hears the whine of old hinges as the front door opens. A rush of relief washes over her because she's certain the door opening means that Sam is home. She feels giddy as the weight of fear lifts off of her shoulders. Leaving the water running, she climbs out of the tub and dries off before slipping the shift on, her hair still saturated with water and clinging to her upper back.

She steps out of the steamy bathroom, intent on inviting Sam to join her in the tub. Hoping to celebrate their reunion and her near brush with death for at least a little while before Sam insists on going to bed.

"Sam!" she calls happily. "I left the-" she pauses as she catches sight of a dark figure standing near the bedroom doorway.

The shape of him is all wrong, he isn't Sam. He turns to her and she catches sight of a pair of yellow eyes just as the lights begin to flicker. She knows that she is going to die.

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As the darkness seems to seep into the room, dimming the lamps and obscuring the moon, she feels regret well up inside of her. She wishes that she had told Sam how much she loved him before he left. She wishes that she had seen her sister when she was in town two weeks ago. She wishes that she had gone to the Grand Canyon with her grandmother. That the last words she spoke to her father weren't in anger. All of the regrets a lifetime can incur run through her mind, things she never saw, never said, and never did.

The lights finally die and she can hear the figure advance on her. Spinning, she races for the bathroom, for the gun, and she just manages to wrap her fingers around it before she's dragged out of the bathroom.

Something invisible and intangible throws her into the bedroom and she lets out a terrified scream as she hits the floor and the gun slips from her grasp. She gropes in the darkness for her weapon, hands searching desperately, and she feels the edge of it, but then it's ripped from her grasp, and the man begins to laugh.

The clouds shift and moonlight filters in, pushing back the darkness, allowing her to see the shadow figure that stands before her. He is like nothing she has ever seen before, and she can feel the evil that roils off of him in waves. She clutches her pendant, chants the 'Hail Mary,' and tries not to listen to the terrible laughter. Her eyes swim with tears, and though she wants to be brave, wants to meet her fate head on; she cannot help the hopeless sobs that begin to overtake her. She does not want to die.

She finishes the last stanza of the third repetition of 'Hail Mary' before she feels the chain tightening as if someone is pulling her. With a great jerk, the chain snaps and the amulet is dragged out of her white-fingered grip. She hears it hit the floor on the other side of the room, and cries harder because she thought it could protect her. The moonlight glints off it, holding false promises and false hopes.

An invisible force pushes her body into the wall, and then she begins to slide up it against her will, a vise-like grip around her body moving her like a marionette. Her head hits the ceiling and she closes her eyes as her body slides across it.

There's a sudden pain in her abdomen, as if it has been ripped open with a knife. Jessica opens her eyes to watch in horror as her own blood drips down to the bed below her. She tries to close her eyes again, but she can't. The man is forcing them to remain open, forcing her to watch for whatever happens next.

She's not sure how she knows, but she is certain that the man is waiting for Sam; that he wants Sam to come home and find her like this. Tears come to her eyes again, because she doesn't want Sam to see this, she doesn't want Sam to witness her death this way. "Why?" she chokes out, even though the pressure on her chest makes it difficult to breathe.

"Because of Sam," the man says simply, his voice smooth and terrifying.

"Why Sam?" she asks, she wants to beg him to spare her, to spare Sam, but she cannot get the words out, cannot say more than that one question.

He doesn't respond, but she knows that he is smiling, that he is pleased at her suffering; at the suffering he plans to inflict in Sam. She knows he wants her to blame Sam, to curse Sam for bringing this down upon her, but she cannot.

She thinks of Sam, the warmth of his skin against hers, the way the calluses on his hands feel as he touches her.

She thinks about all of the time they spent together, nights wrapped around each other, days of easy companionship and love.

She knows that if being with Sam was what led her to this, to the watcher and ultimately to her end; that maybe it was worth it.

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She can still hear the shower running, but over it she makes out the sound of the front door opening.

"Jess?" Sam calls from the kitchen.

She tries to scream out a warning to Sam but all the breath has left her, and she is incapable of making any sound at all. She is helpless and pinned to the ceiling as Sam moves around the darkened apartment. She watches in silence as he walks into the room, oblivious to the danger all around him. He falls back on the bed, eyes closed, and Jess wishes that she could disappear, that Sam could open his eyes and see nothing except a blank ceiling.

Jess is forced to watch in horror as her own blood drips down onto Sam's forehead, dark red splotches staining his skin.

Sam furrows his eyebrows in annoyance, and it reminds her of watching him study, of his passive-aggressive reaction to her pen-tapping, and a thousand other perfectly normal scenarios. It seems so out of place here, in this horror story that has suddenly become her life.

Against her hopes and prayers, Sam opens his eyes.

He stares up at her in complete terror. Internally she screams for him to run, she screams that the man is still here and he needs to leave. All he does is gape at her, and she wonders if anything could make him move now.

"No! Jess, no!"

Fire blossoms from somewhere near her back; she feels the agonizing heat as it engulfs her limbs. She thinks she might be crying again.

As the room catches fire all she wants is for Sam to leave, to escape before it's too late for him.

It is already far too late for her.

"Jess! Jess!" he screams.

She can barely see him now, the intense heat causing waves in her vision. She wonders why she isn't dead yet, wonders why she must be forced to watch this.

Finally, as her vision begins to grow dark; she dimly sees a figure dart into the room and drag Sam out.

Somewhere far off the moon twinkles benignly and the fire roars. Jess can no longer make sense of it all as her world finally dissolves and her soul escapes from the torment of the flames.

Fin.

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A/N: I would love to know what you thought! 

Thanks for reading,

Ada


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